The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1887-03-11

A BIT OF FAMILY HISTORY OF THE
NANnERRILrs.


The World prints bit of history of
the Vanderbilt family. 1t says: Every
body who is anybody knows the rich
Vanderbilts. But who knows the
poor Vanderbilts How many gentle
readers-or how many savage readers,
for that matter-have heard of these
poor relations
Marriages and deaths, the incoming
and outgoings Of one branch of this
family are chroDioled with all the
fitness of detail that newspapers love
to give TO the affairs of The very rich.
II may be timely to say word about
the other branch of the family. Be.
sides why should not poor Wander.
bilt be as interesting as a rich one 2
One of these common relatives nam
ed William II. Vanderbilt was secretly
married the other day to Celia Scrib-
ner at the village of Bloomingdale, q
little way back in New Jersey. He is
only l6 years old and his wife is not
yet 10. There were no grand festivi.
ties on the occasion, young Wander.
bilt did not wear a dress coat-as a
statement of the fact he never saw
dress suit-and the newspapers wasted
no valuable columns describing the
event. If he had lived on Fifth aven-
re nov
Some whisper of this marriage led
the writer to venture into the New
Jersey wilderness where the Wander
bilts have their home-such as it is.
The hamlet where they live is called
Denmark. 1t is made up of three or
four rough, unpainted houses, stuck up
in the mud on the rougher hillsides.
The country all about is as desolate
and uncutivated as if it were 1000
miles from civilization instead of being
only forty miles from New York. And
a Journey to California is less trouble
than trip to this unfrequented, un-
known part of Morris county.
A. Rockaway, N. j., the searcher
after Vanderbil:s leaves the train for a
long journey over the mountains tow
ard Denmark. 1t is hard to conceive
anything more dreary than this drive
o. er ,ony roads through woods brok-
en- here and there by clearing, past
one or two squalid homes that stand
all lonely in little patches of rocky
farm land. One mining village is
passed where the children of mine
workers come out in the road to stare
at the unusual spectacle of a passing
stranger. After two hours of jolting,
inquiry for William III. Vanderbilt is
rewarded and Bills house" is pointed
out. A muddy lane leads up to it, two
white pigs are burrowing under the
gate, red rooster stands Just within
the open kitchen door and pair of
oxen sand barring the entrance to
the yard, where young man in heavy
boots and rough clothes has just CON-
manded them to halt. The young
man says he is William II. Vanderbilt
and leads the way into the house.
1t is kitchen, parlor, bedroom,
drawing room, art gallery, all in one.
A piece of old blanket stuffed in a
broken window pane keeps out the
cod, big kitchen stove warns the
room, a kettle of onions is simmering
on the fire, filing the place with its
penetrating presence; short firewood is
piled up all about the side wall, and
back b.anketed bed alongside
the stove completes the fur
niture. An old man rests in an old
fashioned chair. He is introduced as
John Vanderbilt, a cousin of the fam
GUS commodore. His wife, nearly as
old, but much more active, stands by
and seems deeply interested that any
newspaper should care to say anything
abolt her or her sons.
John Vanderbilt, the old man in the
chair, the second cousin of the COM
modore, is seventy-nlne years old an /
has lived in Morris county for half
century. Up to three years ago he
was an expert fisherman and made
living that way, while his wife, some
nine years younger, was known as the
most .apid cleaner of catfish ir the
country. The couple fare too old to
work now and live with their son,
William H., who supports them. The
cid man, telling about the Vanderbilt
family, said:
Gas near as kin tell the fust ones
of the name that cum here from furrin
parts was Jake an John, two brothers.
They was Low Dutch, or suthin' of
that stripe, | guess, an they sot EN-
selves down on Staten Island, near
what they used ter call Toad's hill in
them days, Jake was the gran'father
of Cornelus-him that they called the
commodore John was my gran father,
an they called me after him. Jake
was shoemaker an John was black
smith. Each Of EN- owned a little
house an enough ground for garden
ltch. / kin member ole Jake very
ell, but my gran father died long
afore / was thought Of
| cole Jake he had a son Cornelius,
that was the commodore's father, an
John had son Aaron, who was my
father, an they was a light smart team
of youngsters an got along well.
They was brung up together, too.
Yer see, ole John died when my ole
man was little shaver and left HIM
all alone an purity poor off. But ole
Jake had heart in him as big as a
punkin, an he TUX the little feller in
outen the cold. But ole Jake's wife
wasn't just like him, an I've often
heerd the old man say she used him
purity tough, maxim him do all the
rough jobs an givin' him to eat what
the rest wouldn't. But the ole man
was tougher than young bear, an he
squeezed through and come out all
right Mebbe it done him good
kinder sharped him up like to hoe his
own row when he got bigger.
| Ole Jake had son Cornelius, who
KEEP the Grand Tavern at Quarantine
an was the father of young Cornelius,
who was afterwards called the Com
modore. Old Cornelius laid a purity
nice nest egg in the Grand Tavern for
young Cornelius, who went on keepin
the place for awhile after his father
died, an then begun to spekilate out
side. Me an young Cornelius kinder
drifted apart arter we growed up, fel
he was at Quarantine an Was il
Bergen, an we didn't see each Other
| ,,,uoh Pr, ,ra alla.e la,i rn ,h,